My feet dragged through the gathering ash on the ground. I fought to keep my balance as pain stabbed through my hip from hitting the corner of the display case.
The door to the shop opened. I took cover on the far side of a dumpster that sat against the back of the building. I took a deep breath, trying to gather my scattered thoughts.
I slung the sling attached to the rifle over my shoulder and toed the edge of the dumpster. The shifting wind caught the top of my hood, pulling it back from my head. Ash pelted my face.
I squinted, then pulled the goggles down over my eyes. My hand slipped inside the pocket of the coat and retrieved the dagger. The discomfort in my hip grew, causing me to shift my weight between my legs.
I peered around the waste container and spotted one of the armed gunmen walking toward me. He swept the back of the building and continued on past the dumpster. I leaned back and stooped down, staying out of sight.
The fronts of his black boots came into view. He slowed, nearing the corner of the dumpster. The dagger rested between my fingers, the business end pointed in his direction.
He crept closer.
My heart punched my chest, and a spike of adrenaline surged through my veins.
He paused a few feet from me, turned around, then faced the direction he’d come from with his rifle trained ahead. I stood, stepped out from the side of the dumpster, then grabbed him from behind.
The dagger pressed to the side of his neck. He thrashed in my arms for a split second, then stopped.
“Where’d they take my friend?” I demanded. “Tell me now or you’re going to die right here.”
He held his tongue.
I spotted movement down the alley from the other foot soldier sweeping the area. He had his back turned to us, and was drifting farther away. The falling ash made him blend well with the elements.
A clanging noise sounded behind me. I shifted my weight, turned to the side some, then looked over my shoulder, but spied no threats.
The armed gunman stomped on my foot, then elbowed me in the side. I caved, reeling from the blow. My hand lowered, removing the dagger from the side of his neck.
He planted his feet, then pushed toward the dumpster. We slammed against the front. His elbow pounded my ribs three times. He stopped, brought his rifle up, then tried to pull away from me.
My fingers grabbed the edge of his ballistic vest, keeping him close. I plunged the tip of the dagger into the side of his neck twice.
His muffled screams of agony filled his mask. He thrashed from side to side, fighting to break free. He reached for my head, clawing at the hood. The rifle dropped from his hands and swung at his side.
I pushed the dagger farther into the side of his neck. He squirmed in my arms a moment longer before going limp.
I dragged the man back and around the dumpster, and discarded his body on the pavement close to the brick wall, then toed the edge of the waste container.
The coast looked clear. I couldn’t see the other target down the far side of the alley that ran behind the row of shops.
I limped out from the dumpster and got back on the move. I wiped the blood from the dagger on my pants, then stuffed the weapon back into my pocket. I glanced over my shoulder once more, closing in on the passage where the jeep waited. Still nothing.
I skirted the corner and worked my way toward the vehicle. The pain in my hip grew with each step. My side ached from the punishing elbows.
My hand pressed against the cold-steel hood of the jeep. A layer of soot gathered on its top. I limped down the driver’s side, stopped just past the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled up.
The door opened and swung wide. I removed the rifle from my shoulder and crammed it onto the passenger side floorboard. I climbed inside the vehicle, then closed the door behind me. My hand reached inside the coat pocket for the keys, but felt nothing. I patted the pockets of my trousers, a dawning realization emerging. Jackal had the keys.
Shit.
I punched the steering wheel twice, then sighed. I ran my hand over my face, frustration building from the disaster that wouldn’t end.
Ash gathered on the windshield, making it difficult to see the alley and any movement ahead of me. I had to move and fast.
I opened the door, leaned out to the cold bite of the wind, then paused, remembering that I never placed Lawson’s black book in my pocket. I reached over the center console to the passenger side seat, feeling for the small book, but came up empty.
Where did it go?
I glanced to the floorboard and craned my neck, struggling to pierce the darkness. The murk made it near to impossible to make anything out, and I needed that black book. It couldn’t be left behind.
My hands searched the dash for the interior light, but I couldn’t locate one. I glanced at the light above my ahead and felt around the dome-shaped, plastic casing. A switch on the side brushed against my finger. I pushed it.
The light turned on. I leaned over the center console and felt along the floorboard. The tips of my fingers grazed over the rubber floor mat, then discovered the small booklet.
I grabbed the black book, sat up in the seat, then stuffed it into the pocket of my coat. I thumbed the switch to the light and hopped out of the jeep. Movement from the corner of the building, at the far end of the alley, caught my eye.
I ducked, closed the door, then made for the backside of the jeep. My back rested against the bumper. I slid to the edge of the driver’s side, then peered down the alley.
The lone gunman stood dead center in the corridor, sweeping both sides of the buildings with his gun-mounted light. Headlights at his nine o’clock washed over his tactical, arctic-white ballistic vest. More men, but how many were inside the vehicle?
I faced forward, staring at the empty street before me, not finding any movement or headlights cutting through the gray ash. I left the cover of the jeep and made for the main road.
My hand palmed the sore area of my hip. I glanced over my shoulder, past the jeep to the vehicle and armed gunman at the end of the alley. He stood next to the driver’s side door of the truck, then pointed my way.
The truck’s engine revved. The gunman on foot took off down the passageway, sprinting in my direction with his rifle shouldered. The truck sped off down the alley, past the corner of the building.
I hit the entrance to the alley and crossed the street. I skimmed over the row of buildings, hunting for a spot to lie low.
The grumbling engine of the truck and squealing tires grew louder. I moved faster, battling the pain in my hip.
A beige sedan sat parked next to the curb ahead of me. I skirted the rear of the vehicle and dropped to the ground on the far side. I moved to the center of the car with my back against the passenger side door.
The truck came to a skidding halt. I stayed low and moved toward the front end of the car. I peeked over the ash-covered hood at the idling truck.
The foot soldier hunting me stood between the truck and the sedan. He skimmed over the buildings, then looked at the vehicle. I ducked out of sight. After a few seconds, I tried my luck again.
He faced the truck, looking at the opened window on the passenger side. A man sat in the front seat. I could only see a small portion of his body, but his arm was draped out of the window. He rapped his palm against the door, then pointed at the back seat of the truck.
The foot soldier turned to the side, lowered his rifle, then pointed at the buildings behind me. He stood there a moment longer, then retreated to the back seat of the truck.
The passenger window rolled up.
The foot soldier hammered the door twice with his gloved fist. He slung the door open, then climbed inside the cab. He slammed it shut behind him.
The truck drove past the sedan and down the street. It plowed through the empty intersection and kept going, leaving the area.
I stood and watched the red glow of the truck’s taillights fade away within the falling ash. The cold air nipped at my exposed flesh. I
rubbed my hands together, then blew on them.
I peered through the windshield of the sedan, then moved toward the passenger side door. I tested the handle. The door didn’t budge. I ran my hand over the window and looked inside the vehicle for any keys, but spotted nothing in the seats or the ignition.
A subtle cough sounded from behind me. I froze. My hand reached inside the pocket of my coat, grabbing the dagger.
I turned around, ready to strike, but stopped when I spotted a young girl standing before me, staring at me with wide, blue eyes.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CORY
Cindy looked over the various guns laid out on the mattress of the bed. Her forearm wiped under her nose. She folded her arms across her chest, looked to Anna, then me.
“A plan?” she asked, staring at both of us with a raised brow.
Anna remained silent, then turned toward me.
“Yeah,” I replied. “You two will stay here, and I’ll head over to Jessie’s place to see what I can find out. It’ll be safer that way.”
“He doesn’t know you. What makes you think he’ll even speak to you?” Cindy shot back. “I’m not even sure he’d speak to me about this, all things considered.”
“Don’t worry about that. I have a way of making people talk, even if they don’t want to,” I said. “But, hopefully it won’t come to that.”
“What does that mean?” Cindy asked, perplexed.
“It just means that he’s persuasive,” Anna answered without providing any additional details.
Cindy shook her head, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “I don’t know. If he skips town, the odds of me finding out what they took is going to be slim to none, and this will never go away.”
“If I get a hold of him, he won’t get away.” I scratched at the stubble on my chin. “To be honest, this is the best laid plan of action you have. If those men show up by chance or he’s on edge, you’ll be in more danger than you are right now. If he isn’t there, doesn’t know anything about what’s happening, or they’ve already shaken him down, your best bet will be to get your son and disappear. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I think that’s going to be the smartest move. You said yourself that they have people inside the police department, so you can’t go that route.”
Cindy nodded, then ran her fingers through her matted hair. “You’re right. I know this is a long shot and if it doesn’t work, I’ll have to go from there.”
“I know how you feel and it’s a tough spot to be in, but being alive and on the run is better than being dead,” I replied.
Shadow poked her head above the end of the bed, then placed her jaw on the mattress. She glanced up to Anna who rubbed her head.
I pointed at the pistols. “Hand me one of those, will ya?”
“You want the Smith and Wesson M&P 9 or the Beretta 92X?” Anna asked, pointing at the guns. “They have two extra magazines for each.”
“Give me the Beretta,” I answered.
Anna handed me the Beretta along with two extra magazines. I placed them into the pocket of my coat and secured the piece between my waistband.
“Why are you doing this for me?” Cindy asked, lines forming between her eyebrows. “I mean, we don’t even know each other and you’re willing to risk your life for me, a total stranger. What’s in this for you?”
I lowered the coat over the Beretta, then glanced at Anna. Again, she remained silent and diverted her gaze to Shadow, allowing me to field the question. “Doing the right thing, I guess. I couldn’t just leave in good conscience knowing that I could’ve tried to help you in some way.”
“Well, it’s appreciated,” Cindy replied. “I’m not sure how or why our paths crossed when they did, but I am grateful for any help. From both of you.”
I offered a warm smile, then nodded. Anna did the same.
“Where downtown is Jessie’s place?” I asked, grabbing my mask from the bed.
Cindy turned and walked toward the small desk against the wall. She grabbed a pen and paper, her hand shaking as she scribbled down the address.
“Keep your eyes peeled for any movement outside,” I said to Anna. “We don’t know who’s lurking about out there.”
“We’ll be fine, Cage,” Anna shot back, cutting her eyes up to me. “Watch your back out there and stay frosty. Get done what needs to be done and head back. Remember, you’re the one with our ride, and I’d like to not have to try and find another one.”
“That’s the plan,” I replied.
Cindy ripped the paper from the pad, then handed it to me. “He lives in a loft. The building can be a bit dicey as far as the kind of people that live there, or so William told me.”
I took the paper, angled it toward the light, and read over the address. 2536 Blinker St. #25A. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for any sketchy folks. It won’t be a problem.”
“Thank you again. I am beyond grateful for this.” Cindy folded her arms across her chest again and shivered, trying to stay warm.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, tilting my head.
Anna grabbed my arm and led me to the door. She glanced over at Cindy who paced the dim room while rubbing her arms, then blew into her hands.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Anna asked.
“Yeah. It’ll be fine and won’t take long.” I looked over to Cindy. “Just stay low and I’ll be back before you know it.”
“If anything looks off or doesn’t feel right, cut and leave,” Anna whispered to me.
I nodded, then slipped the mask on. I flipped the hood of the coat over my head and turned toward the entrance.
Anna walked over to the window, pulled the curtain to the side, then peered out to the parking lot. She moved her head about, scanning for any movement. “All right. Looks good.”
I opened the door and stepped outside to the chill of the midmorning air. I moved down the sidewalk, around the corner of the building, and past the front end of the SUV.
My hand dug into the pocket of the coat, fumbling for the keys. I skirted past the front bumper toward the driver’s side of the vehicle, opened the door, and climbed inside, keys in hand. I closed it behind me and shivered.
Ash gathered on the windshield, blocking my view. I set the keys in my lap, then rubbed my hands together to warm them up. The joints ached from the bitter cold and hurt to bend.
I studied the paper one last time, going over the route. Cindy kept the directions to Jessie’s place short and brief. A number of turns and a handful of streets would lead me there. It didn’t look complicated or that far away, barring any trouble.
I grabbed the keys from my lap, slipped them into the ignition, then fired up the SUV. It idled a bit rough. I pumped the gas, revving the engine. It surged and rattled some, but kept operating. I turned the windshield wipers on, knocking away the ash.
Shifting into drive, I pulled away from the corner of the motel, and drove through the parking lot and under the awning in front of the dark office. Once on the street, I punched the gas.
The SUV tore down the deserted road, plowing through the ash that refused to stop falling. The dark, gray sky overhead cleared some, offering a bit more light. Thunder continued to rumble behind the clouds. Flashes of white lightning caught my eye in the distance. The haze lurking around the tops of the buildings receded some, showing more of the sprawling structures.
My head stayed on a swivel, checking the driver and passenger side windows for any threats on the sides of the streets or flanking me. All seemed to be quiet.
I passed a few cars moving at a snail’s pace on the other side of the road. The drivers looked in my direction as I drove by, but I couldn’t make out their faces.
I glanced at the street sign mounted at the top of the intersection light I approached, then back to the directions. I pumped the brake, looked both ways, then turned east.
A truck sat parked in the middle of the road, both driver and passenger side doors wide open. I slowed, then made a
wide arch around the vehicle.
I drove past the truck and kept going, moving around any other vehicles that sat in the street before me. What few people walked down the sidewalks, braving the unforgiving weather, looked my way. Their covered heads moved in sync with the SUV as I drove by. They stared a moment longer before going on about their business.
The remainder of the drive to Jessie’s place went by without incident. I pulled into the alley next to his building and killed the engine. I stuffed the paper into the pocket of my coat, then dropped the keys in after it.
I checked the side-view mirror, then pushed the door open and got out. The wind rushed me, hitting my chest like a thousand fists. I shivered. My hands slipped inside the coat’s pockets to keep them warm.
I walked around the corner of the reddish-brown brick building with my chin dipped, and trudged down the sidewalk toward the entrance, looking for any people heading my way.
A black-tinted glass door swung open from the building, and a slender figure walked out, wearing a light-blue jacket with the hood covering their head. They trotted down the steps, then turned my way.
The gaunt, pale face of the bearded man looked at me through the ash. His sunken eyes narrowed, then squinted at me. He reached inside the pocket of his coat and headed right at me.
I pulled my hand from the warm depths of the coat’s pockets, reached under the flap of the jacket, and grabbed the grip of the Beretta. He passed by me, nudging my arm with his elbow, but kept moving.
I peered over my shoulder, watching him cross the street to the other side and disappearing into the falling ash. I climbed the four stairs to the entrance, removed my hand from the Beretta, and opened the door.
Ash blew inside the entryway, gathering on the tile floor. Darkness loomed, making it hard to see. I stepped through the opening and stood inside the entrance.
The door closed behind me, quieting the howling wind. Silence filled my ears. I pulled the hood of the coat back and peeled the mask off my face.
Brink of Extinction | Book 2 | Stay Alive Page 13